


Quid pro quo

by inawasteland



Series: 25 Days of Rooster Teeth [10]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:39:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2775032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inawasteland/pseuds/inawasteland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Imagine Person B of your OTP trying to wake Person A up to go for a walk/jog/run together early in the morning. A goes along reluctantly since they dislike exercise. B makes it up to them by buying or making them breakfast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quid pro quo

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the prompt and thought it was made for Tuckington, really. Also, writing this convinced me I need to rewatch S11 ASAP.

If there was one thing Wash had learned in his short time as the self-imposed leader of the blue team, it was that Tucker was the most impossible to work with. At least Caboose wasn’t a stubborn asshole who refused to take orders. Although Caboose did have his weaknesses, notably that with Church’s disappearance, he was more prone to emotional breakdowns, he did tend to go along with Wash’s drills more often than Tucker.

Tucker, who fought tooth and nail to make sure he didn’t have to actually exercise.

How did these soldiers stay alive for so long again?

Perhaps it was because Wash wasn’t joining Tucker in the drills that was causing so much commotion. Whatever it was, Wash did not take to Tucker’s undermining his position of leadership, so he was going to make sure this didn’t continue any longer.

Caboose, he reasoned, could sleep in this time. For one, he actually accomplished more than Tucker and had earned it. And? Wash wanted to keep his distance, so he didn’t accidentally become Caboose’s next best friend. How on earth was he going to be a commanding officer if his insubordinates didn’t view him as a leader?

So when he walked quietly into Tucker’s room before the sun had even risen on Chorus, he gently shook him awake. Or, he tried. But goddam was Tucker ever so stubborn. The bastard refused to wake up (although Wash could _hear_ that he was awake, he was just trying to avoid letting Wash notice this little detail).

“Oh come _on_ Tucker, I’m going to run the perimeter with you, just please for the love of god, will you wake up?” Wash hissed, growing impatient.

“Fuuuuck can’t I just sleep a little while longer? It’s not gonna kill us, there isn’t even anyone _here_ to kill us.” Tucker just refused to let Wash win; he was _not_ going to cave in easily.

“Jesus, Tucker, a little exercise is not going to kill you either. In fact, it might actually do you some good. Besides, I just want some company for my morning run. And believe it or not, but Caboose isn’t the most riveting company.” Wash clenched his fists, moments away from just making an about face and storming out of there. There was one line he refused to cross, even though he knew some military superiors used physical force to keep their privates in line. But he knew that it was no use, that subjecting Tucker to that kind of abuse was not going to encourage him.

The only thing that could help at this point was appealing to a weak spot of Tucker’s.

“Oh fucking _fine_ I’ll run with you. Just don’t let Caboose know, okay? I think he’s starting to view you as Church 2.0 and you know what happens when you creep into best friend territory.” Tucker smirked as he took his sweet ass time stretching in his bunk. He had a sheet draped casually across his body and Wash couldn’t fucking help it, his eyes swept over Tucker’s body, averting just in time for the sheet to slip off.

“How many times do I have to tell you _stop sleeping naked!_ ” Wash hissed, clapping his palm over his eyes in an attempt to hide the small blush creeping across his cheeks. “I’ll meet you outside, if you’re not dressed in ten I’m coming back in here and dragging you out myself.”

And with that, Wash left Tucker’s dormitory and waited for Tucker to arrive. In the meantime, he used that time to stretch. He was so engrossed in his stretching route that he hadn’t even noticed Tucker had joined him and was blatantly staring at him. Wash supposed he deserved that after the way he had done the same to Tucker.

“We ready?” Tucker asked, pulling his dreaded hair back into a ponytail so that it wouldn’t flop into his face while they ran. It was nice, not having to wear armor all the time. If it weren’t so fucking hot on this planet, though, he guessed that Wash would be wearing his armor 24/7. The dude was fucking paranoid, there was no beating around that bush.

“Yeah. We’re ready,” Wash mumbled before starting to jog ahead, glancing behind him for Tucker to follow. He was surprised that Tucker was able to keep up rather easily. At least, at first. Then Tucker was starting to breathe heavily, and Wash used that as an indication to slow down his pace a little.

When they reached their base once more, Tucker looked like he was about ready to pass out. Wash, on the other hand, was in much better shape and was only a little out of breath. He rolled his eyes, but the running euphoria he was experiencing made it look a lot less annoyed with the grin that was presently on his face.

“Rest up, Tucker. Meet me in the mess hall when you’re ready.”

If there was one thing Wash was definitely _not_ good at, it was cooking. Especially when there just weren’t many ingredients lying around. Normally, they ate the standard MRE’s that were in their supplies and that was that. But this time, Tucker deserved a treat. And there was just enough in the food storage for the one breakfast food that Wash was good at: pancakes. The batter wasn’t the best, and the pancakes weren’t the fluffiest, but it was the thought that counted. And there definitely wasn’t any syrup, so Wash had to improvise with a fruit topping instead.

When Tucker arrived in the mess hall, the look on his face was enough reward for Wash. And Wash, he _tried_ not to look pleased, to make it look like this was all just part of the plan. But dammit, those wide eyes were enough to make Wash’s heart melt.

“You cook?” Tucker asked, his voice still a little scratchy (which was probably also due in part to the early rising) from their previous run. “I didn’t even know we had a kitchen.”

Wash just shrugged and fixed up Tucker’s plate, placing it in front of him before sitting across from him with a plate of his own.

“You earned it. You didn’t complain once while we were running, though I know you really wanted to. I’m proud of you, Tucker.” He bit into his own meal and was pleasantly surprised with how it turned out. And judging by Tucker’s reaction, so was he.  
 “Okay, if you promise to cook more of these amazing meals, maybe, _just maybe_ you’ll get more drills out of me,” Tucker quietly offered, looking up at Wash with hope in his eyes.

Wash really didn’t want to tell him that it wasn’t likely that he would even be able to get enough ingredients for these sort of meals to happen on a regular basis. He didn’t want to tell him that if word got out, Grif would probably eat everything in sight before they even saw the stovetop.

What he did, though, was reach across the table to grab Tucker’s hand. “We’ll figure something out.”

It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no. But the sparkle in Tucker’s eyes and the small smile, combined with Tucker covering Wash’s hand with a soft hand of his own was enough to convince him that he had said the right thing. 


End file.
